A Cornucopia of Love
by KitCat Italica
Summary: A crack!fic parody of every single Harry Potter pairing you'd care to think of, and then some you wish had never been thought of.  Slash, femmeslash, het, incest, threesome, ninesome...all will be poked fun at.  Nothing is sacred!


**Hey everyone in the Harry Potter fandom! I've been writing in the Batfandom so far, but I'm branching out a bit. My friends and I came up with this idea of a parody/crack!fic series during PE a few summers ago, so this may end up being a collaborative project. But until then, here's one to start with. It gets a little serious/characters-turned-author's-mouthpieces at times, but whatcha gonna do, it's satire.**

**Remember, nothing here is sacred. Except, of course, for Rowling's incredible novels that inspired the godawful fanfictions that inspired this horridly lewd n' crude parody.**

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><p>Have Some Chocolate, Draco<p>

By KitCat Italica

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Boy With The Horntail Tattoo, raced down the corridor to Potions Class. He was late. Again. Then again, it was double Potions with the Slytherins, so who could blame him? It was dark and frigid down there anyway in Snape's classroom, which was developing quite the case of mildew (which Snape tried to explain as "new developmental ingredients for an experimental brew, the complexity of which is far beyond the reaches of your useless head, Potter, no matter how much sense I try to knock into it," and Harry had received the promised knocks, as usual). (No, not _those_ kinds of 'knocks,' we'll get to that pairing _later_.)

However, Harry couldn't be late this time; one more tardy and the Potions Master had assured him that he'd find himself in a month's worth of detentions with the greasy-haired Professor. Harry didn't think he could take those…sessions…with Snape much longer, as they entailed…wait, no, I _said_ we'll get to that pairing _later._

Harry was getting quite out of breath, and he still had several more flights of dodgy staircases to go before he reached the dungeons. Thus he was less than pleased to find Draco Malfoy standing in his way. Attempting to ignore him, he walked even more briskly, his eyes fixed on the door beyond the smirking blonde.

However, this fixation of eye contact caused Harry to miss seeing the leg stuck into his path, and he tripped over Malfoy's foot, crashing to the ground.

He huffed in annoyance, sprawled out on the floor, attempting to locate his wand (no, not 'locate' his 'wand', I mean this literally) as a safety precaution. He'd have to get Hermione to fix his bent glasses (and it was _only_ his glasses that were 'bent') once he got to class, if he could dodge another whack from Snape in time, when he realized just what was so strange about the situation in general.

One, Malfoy was also tardy, but to his favorite class.

Two, Malfoy wasn't laughing at him for tripping.

"Call me Draco in your thoughts, please, Harry."

Three, Malfoy was using a civilized tone with him; four, Malfoy wasn't referring to him by his surname, five, Malfoy had asked him to do the same six Malfoy had said _please_ to himsevenMalfoyhadfucking_readhismind_

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" he snapped, still not turning around to face the Slytherin. It would make the experience seem a little too real if he were to do such a thing, and this _certainly_ was not real…

Malfoy's shoes came into view through his blurry peripheral vision, and slowly circled to stand in front of his nose. The pale face of his rival materialized before him as he squatted down to meet Harry's eye level. "Well, there are several things I want, Harry. I'm so glad you asked me, it seems as if no one _ever_ asks what _I_ want-"

"That's because you're a prick, Malfoy," Harry cut across him, "and it's quite clear what you want in general: you want me to look like an idiot, everyone I care about to lose their faith in me and all that's good in the world, and to have everything in this school go your way so you can have everything your shriveled little heart desires, such as money, prestige, power, and everything else the usual Slytherin wants, as if you didn't get enough of that pampered treatment from your parents-"

"No, no, _no, _Harry!" Malfoy whined in quite an un-Malfoy-like manner, slamming his fist to the ground in an epic image of frustration. "You've got it all _wrong_! I don't want _any_ of that! I never asked to be a Slytherin, I really didn't…"

"Okay," Harry laughed at the ludicrous proclamation, "what was one of the first things I heard come out of your mouth? 'I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?'"

Malfoy stared at him. "I never said that."

"Yes you did! I clearly remember you saying those exact words to me at Madame Malkin's, during our first robe fittings before First Year! You must remember it, too!"

"Nope, can't say I recall it," Malfoy flaunted his hand effemina- oh, er, _dismissively_.

Harry was flabbergasted. "Look, it's in our goddamn Bible, okay? Year 1, Chapter 5, Page 77, last paragraph on the page in the paperback version! You can't just rewrite your entire character for the sake of subjecting others online to your own strange fantasy!"

Malfoy just stared at him with a _What universe have you been living in?_ look. "Yes I can," he stated simply. "It's called fanfiction dot net. I can do whatever the hell I want, provided my author dreams it up!

"But anyway," Malfoy and Harry both diverted their eyes quickly from the fourth wall, "my professed desires to belong in Slytherin House are only because of the incredible pressure my family puts on me! Y'know, like your friend Ronald, wanting to be in Gryffindor, or your godfather Sirius Black, who wanted to break away from his family tradition of evil bigotry and strike out on his own with the brave of heart! That's what I wanted to do, I really did, but-"

"If you wanted to, as you say, 'strike out on your own,' and as I say, 'permanently alter your defining personality in ten seconds flat,' you could have just _asked_ the Hat. That's what I did, and now I'm in Gryffindor, and glad for it, because it lessens the time I have to spend with arrogant gits like you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd rather not have any more detentions with Snape." And with that, Harry Potter rose from his position on the floor that he'd spent far too much time in while having this absurdly long conversation with a Malfoy, and proceeded to leave.

Until he realized something was tugging on his sleeve, preventing his progress forward. Upon inspection, it was Malfoy, on his knees, begging him not to leave.

"Please, I beg you!" he begged, "don't go! Please, I'm sorry if I offended you somehow, Harry, it's just that I don't have anyone else to talk to about these deep secrets I've never told anyone before! But somehow…I feel as though..." he trailed off suddenly, unable to go on for some dramatic, heart-rending reason or other.

Feeling his already-shabby state of being in-character slipping by the second, Harry knelt down to meet Malfoy at eye-level, trying to understand what the hell he was going to utter next. "…as though…?" he prompted.

"I feel…as if…" Tears were starting to spring hotly from the gray eyes.

"As if what?"

"…like…"

"…like…?"

"…um…well…"

"Just spit it out, Malfoy, this dramatic set-up is starting to worry me that something's _really_ wrong with you!"

"Like you're the only person who could understand me!" Malfoy blubbered out through a sudden surge of tears, and he would probably have buried his dripping face in Harry's shoulder had he not been stopped by a sharp shove away. Nonetheless, he proceeded. "I mean, think about it, we're complete opposites!"

Harry's brow furrowed in complete confusion. "…and…that makes us…relate to each other…how? Seems to me that that would lead to the exact opposite conclusion."

"No, Harry, you don't understand – you are the only one who understands!"

"What?"

Malfoy had grabbed Harry's shoulders in a death grip by this point, and was rocking the other back and forth as he continued with his theory. "You grew up as if in poverty because you were never privileged, while I have been shown love and favoritism all my life because my parents love me; I knew of magic all my life, being a pureblood, and you'd never even heard of Hogwarts until your letter came; my parents both come from a long line of witches and wizards, and are snotty and materialistic, but yours gave their lives to protect you, and your mother wasn't even raised a witch; I care about status, you care about character; I despise and harass anyone I deem as unworthy, and you, knowing exactly how it feels to receive that treatment, accept others who have no one else to turn to; you've risked your neck for others countless times, while I'd rather save my own skin…don't you see? We've such completely different backgrounds that we're almost like…like two sides to the same coin! If I were to look for hidden subtext, I'd say it's as if we…" his voice dropped to a stage-whisper, "…_complete each other_."

"Okay, stop acting like Joker talking to Batman."

Malfoy, quite out of breath from his long sentence with too many semicolons in it for its own good, stared at Harry dumbly. "Who…?"

"Never mind, you've never read Muggle comics. Look, my point is-"

"No, Harry, you listen to _my_ point. Think about it, since I'm sure you've never considered this possibility before," his gaze at Harry suddenly took on an even greater intensity, as if that were possible at that point, "...how could you live your life…without _me_?"

"You honestly think I've never considered that?" Harry asked him incredulously. "Look, it's not like I'd wish you dead – although I've come very close – but there are far worse people out there than school bullies who hex Neville every week. However, in all honesty, _Draco_, if you were transferred to Durmstrang, or got a severe case of spattergroit, or even blasted off the face of the Earth in a bloody rocketship to Mars, I would be quite happy. Thrilled even, I would be _ecstatic, _as would most people in this school. Balloons and fireworks would fly all over the castle like a Disneyworld Resort, Cheering Charms would be a waste of energy, Patronuses would be spontaneously shooting out of people's wands-"

"Like an orgy?"

"Yes, like-" Harry faltered as he processed what he had just agreed to. "Wait, _what_?"

"Oh, c'mon, Harry," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "you think happy thoughts and something white comes out the end of a piece of wood, don't _tell_ me you've never made the connection before."

Harry was quite disgusted and appalled by Malfoy's increasingly odd behavior, but pressed on. "Look, my _point_ is, I would not crawl into a girl's bathroom wailing my heart out just because you were no longer an irksome presence in my life. If you're considering it, I'd greatly encourage any further action on that option."

"But Harry-"

"What, you _want_ me around here for your taunting pleasure? What happened to the Malfoy that wanted me expelled for having an illegal broomstick, or killed by a rogue Bludger, or struck down by a Hippogriff, or in detention for catching me sneaking into Hagrid's hut at night beside a newly-lit fire in the dark all alone except to show my two friends what was happening inside…"

Malfoy abruptly cut him off from the allusion to the Norbert incident that could be cleverly warped into an innuendo for another pairing that will come _later_. "Harry, don't you get it? If you weren't around, there would be no purpose for me in life! All my mocking insults would be aimed at thin air! I would have no one to compete with for attention!"

"Yes you would, you'd just find someone else to pick on, and your life does _not_ revolve around me. You'd still find a way to worm yourself into the Minister's or Voldemort's inner circle, whoever suits your needs for protection and power better at the time. So get that crazy notion that we're somehow _linked_ out of your head right now, Malfoy, or I'll-"

"Beat me?"

Harry's thoughts were thrown off-kilter by the suggestion. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of cursing you with something, what gives you the idea that I'd-"

"My father does it all the time when I'm at home!" Malfoy wailed again, and wilted into Harry's lap, much to the Gryffindor's dismay. "He beats me and mistreats me and abuses me worse than he did Dobby, knocking me around with his pimp-cane all the time. He has a pimp-cane, you know, so he's obviously a pimp! And then my mother, she's even worse, screaming at me all the time, 'You useless twit, why're you such a baby all the time, you'll never grow up, you bloody chicken, why do you scream so hard when I hit you-'"

"What the-"

"Then when Auntie Bellatrix comes around, it's the Cruciatus Curse with her, over and over, never leaving me alone one minute the whole time she stays! Since I'm obviously just misunderstood as the sixth book shows me to be, even though that was under the pressure of Voldemort's plan that I had to carry out and was justifiably terrified about, it's quite clear that child abuse is the reason for me being so screwy to start with!"

"_What the hell are you on, Malfoy?_"

Looking up with a tear-stained face, Malfoy managed, "Your lap, by the looks of things."

"No, seriously, _what did Fred and George end up slipping into your pumpkin juice, because this is NOT FUNNY_." He shoved Malfoy off him again, leaving him with tear-soaked robes to clean up with a spell he couldn't recall at the time; yet another one to ask Hermione about. But Harry had had it with Malfoy's game, and looked the other squarely in the eye. "My aunt and uncle _starved_ me within an inch of my life for _eleven years_, so I think I know more than my fair share about _child abuse _and its effects. And furthermore, your parents would never beat you, because _they genuinely care about you_. So stop with the sob stories already. Y'know what, I've had it with you," he stood up to leave, "and Potions is probably about over by now, I can at least copy down the assigned homework before Snape strangles me."

"But _Harry_…"

"WHAT."

Harry spun around on his heel angrily, but was met with the oddest image he had ever seen in his life.

Malfoy had dropped his trousers.

Harry could not utter anything else besides "What the _hell-_" before Malfoy flipped his trousers inside out and started putting them on again.

"Well, Har-Bear, if I knew you were going to make things _this_ difficult I would have just jumped you and gotten it over with. But no, I tried to be reaching-out-Draco, I tried to be understanding-Draco, I even tried to be abused-lonely-blubbering-mess-Draco, but it seems you've left me no choice." On went one trouser leg, then the other, then up went the waistband, until he turned around. Harry was partly relieved that perhaps Malfoy had become embarrassed, which would indicate things were _finally_ turning back to normal-

-until the bastard snapped the leather material onto his ass with a sexy _smack_, turning his head behind him to meet Harry with a smoldering gaze.

"Harry…meet Draco…in _leather pants_."

The Boy Who Lived wondered just how he had lived through the traumatizing experience of three seconds ago.

Malfoy stood in the same pose, gray eyes smoldering, blonde hair and pale cheekbones accentuated just _so_ by the torches lining the corridor, black leather hugging his lithe lower body like a male model. His shirt was inexplicably gone, which made Harry quite nervous about what direction the fangirl who had drawn this picture was going to take the plot next.

"You're not…" he started, though quite wary of the waters he was about to tread, "you're not…trying to _seduce_ me, are you?"

"That depends," purred Malfoy in a husky, sexy voice, "…is it working?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I have a crush on a _girl_, not to mention a future girl_friend_ who later becomes my _wife_, thanks, you sniveling git." He turned around, ready to leave for good, no matter what came out of that foul smartass's mouth next.

Malfoy dropped the pose, shoulders slouching. "Oh, c'mon, Harry!" he called back to the other, his voice echoing around the stone walls. "It's not like we don't have our fantasies every now and again! Don't we all? Who's to say what Draco Malfoy _would_ do, or what Harry Potter _wouldn't_ do, given the right circumstances? True, J.K. Rowling, but every work of fiction is subject to _interpretation!_ And if someone interprets our characters and our relationship to be full of delicious homosexual undertones about two boys with a schoolyard crush that take out their equal sexual frustrations with each other by harassing each other like mad dogs, who's to stop them? They can still write about us like that, provided they relinquish all rights to the bloody franchise, and if they want to write forty-page pornography sessions about us taking it one step further and flopping around on each other, cuddling like sea otters, then let's give them that satisfaction in their lives and oblige them!"

Harry had stopped in his tracks at the statement of honest facts that shot down all slash-flamers' arguments, but still faced away from Malfoy. Neither, however, was he moving. Malfoy was a bit winded again from his sweeping monologue, and the camera shot discreetly showed off how fetchingly his form-fitted leather clung to the bulge in his trousers. His pale skin glowed in the firelight, a perfect replica of a teenage girl's wet dream.

Harry turned around.

"You know what, Draco…"

He grinned.

"…you're absolutely right."

Draco grinned back.

The two ran at each other in a manner that was obviously not choreographed by a fanfic writer, regardless of how sexily perfect it was. They tore off Harry's robes and Draco's leather pants, and let's just say things got pretty freaky in the corridor.

The next thing they both knew was Snape giving Harry a month's worth of detention for indecent exposure in public, and offering Draco some chocolate to ease away the salty taste in his mouth. But neither of them cared. For now, they had an audience to please, and damned to Azkaban if they were to disappoint.

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><p><strong>I suppose, for this pairing parody at least, I should, if not clarify my views that were pretty much stated in the fic itself, cover my ass from haters. I have no problem with slash – nearly my entire body of work on this site is comprised of it. But some pairings lend themselves better to slash than others, and I must say, I've never been too tickled by any Potterslash I've seen, sans the canon-in-all-but-explicit-words GrindelwaldDumbledore. Drarry is one of the better ones I've seen, but I guess you could say I flip-flop on my opinion of it, from loving it to hating it to scoffing at it to favoriting it to…I guess writing parody about it. So if offense was ever taken in the course of this fic…that's what parody's for. I've done my job. :) Thanks for reading!**

**And as one final note, the featured characters in the fic's descriptions will be updated according to what pairing is parodied in the current chapter, for easier access. :)**


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